


Delicious

by jillyfae



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Courtship, Electricity trick, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Oral Sex, Romance, Vaginal Sex, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders may, perhaps, be thinking some inappropriate things regarding Hawke's younger sister.</p><p>Fortunately, the problem is mutual ... which leads to quite a lot of firsts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a kink!meme prompt about a frozen banana that I conceived as a short little oral sex fic ... it expanded into a rather epic seduction, as both Anders and Bethany insisted that their time together needed to be special.

Anders swallowed. Hard. Hawke was going to kill him. Shit, Varric would probably kill him. He deserved it, too, but he couldn't. stop. staring. He'd figured it'd be a nice treat, some frozen fruit, he knew from experience Fereldans had trouble adjusting to the more humid climate here in Kirkwall, right off the ocean, but...

_Maker, I shouldn't have brought bananas._

It had started out perfectly innocently. He'd gotten a crate of mostly-unbruised fruit someone had 'rescued' off the docks and passed along to their favorite Healer, and decided to share. He was trying to be sociable, trying to stop hiding in his own head with his almost-best-friend-worst-enemy-alter-ego and actually, oh, talk to people. But then Bethany had been the only one home, and he'd almost turned around at the potential awkwardness, but really, they were alone at the clinic all the time so why was this different?

Besides, she'd smiled so prettily, and looked so delighted when he'd mentioned fruit and magical ice, and a cure for the heat, and had practically dragged him back outside to sit on the steps and try it out once his ice spell was finished.

And now he could see the muscles in Bethany's throat move as she licked along the length of the fruit. The hum of pleasure she made as she,  _Andraste's Flaming Sword_ , as she swirled her tongue around the tip.

He'd always known Bethany was a gorgeous girl, but she didn't deserve an old man pawing at her, and GIRL. Yes. GIRL. Hawke's Younger Sister. Hawke's gorgeous, delectable, kind, younger sister, who helped out at the clinic and was a wonderfully powerful healer, her magic a singing hum against his skin when they worked together and...

Anders swallowed again, even harder than last time, finally managing to drop his gaze to the ground when she started nibbling gently on white flesh, shoving the shimmering blue disapproval he could feel in the back of his head as far down deep into his soul as he could.  _I am not taking advantage of a young girl. No. Not. Stop that._

And then his gaze flickered up and he knew he was doomed, because now she was  _sucking_. The entire top half in her mouth, her eyes closed contentedly, her cheeks hollowed at the pressure, her lips, those gorgeous lips, wrapped all the way around...

"Excuse me," he barked out, his voice clawing its way unhappily out of his throat as he shoved himself to his feet, "just remembered."

He fled, pausing only briefly in his cowardly retreat at the sound of Bethany's "are you alright?" chasing him down the stairs and down the alley as he retreated back to Darktown.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't show up at the clinic the next day.

Anders didn't know whether to be relieved, or to go hunt down Hawke and make sure she was alright, and he was still trying to decide when he gave up on actually accomplishing any healing today and blew out the lantern, his forehead falling against the doors with a thud once he'd closed and barred them.

_Hanged Man, Hawke's, or Bed? Oh Void, don't think about bed. Bethany in bed. Bethany who didn't come here today. Please let her be fine. Of course she's fine, she's not getting stalked by a man almost twice her age today. Shut up Anders._

Logically, he knew he wasn't actually twice her age. But she was so very young and pretty and innocent and delightful and he was just... a disaster. A horrible abomination of a disaster who would destroy her wonderful young life.

Who couldn't stop picturing her mouth. Wrapped around a banana. Or other things. Like him.

"Anders?"

He thumped his head once more against the door before turning to smile at his  _wonderful, beautiful, painfully perfect_  guest.

“Bethany! How are you today?”

“I’m,” she stuttered slightly, hands wrapping around and around each other, twisting the hems of her sleeves. “I was, worried... how are you?” And she finally looked up at him, her head still ducked down nervously so her eyes seemed even darker than usual, aimed up at him through her eyelashes, and he  _wanted_ , wanted to shove her down to her knees so she had to look up even further, wanted her to take him in his mouth, wanted to feel those lips...

Wanted to be the kind of man she deserved, the kind who would bring her flowers, and romance, not blood and magic and danger. The kind who wasn’t already half-hard in his trousers just from the flutter of her eyelashes, who would worship her as she deserved, who didn’t want to fuck her senseless against the dirty bricks of Darktown.

He saw a flush slowly start to build across her cheeks as he just stared, devouring her with his eyes. “Um, Anders?” She sounded nervous now,  _Maker_ , he was going to scare her if he didn’t...

_That’s it. Scare her off. Keep her safe._

And he took one long step, grabbed her face with his hands and shoved his mouth against hers, hard, his tongue forced past her lips as he backed her up against the wall, as he leaned his body against hers, as he made sure she could feel the length of him hardening against her stomach, could feel his desire, his need, his  _lust_.

She made one strangled gasp of surprise, but then, instead of pushing, or shoving or slapping or even hexing him as he so richly deserved, her body melted against him, breasts hot against his chest, hands tangled in his hair as she opened her lips further, moaned her consent into his mouth.

He forced himself to pull his head back, panting hard, surrounded by her sweet scent, her lush skin, the rich strands of her hair tangled around his fingers. “Bethany,” he gasped, “we can’t, this is.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t stand it if I h...”

“Shh,” she whispered, “I’m young, Anders, not stupid. I’ve been an apostate on the run my entire life, and I know a good man when I meet him. You would never hurt me, not if you could help it.”

She leaned forward to kiss him again, soft and tentative, so very unsure of herself, yet still trying to comfort  _him_ , and it broke his heart.

And his self-control.

He was kissing her again, her beautiful, beautiful lips soft and pliant, her skin sweet under his tongue as he moved to her cheek, her jaw, started licking down her neck, the sound of her heavy breathing music to his ears, her hands clenching in his hair as she whispered his name. “Oh, Anders.”

He desperately ignored all lingering misgivings and guilt and worry, he was still human, wasn’t he? And she was  _perfection_ , warm and willing and  _wanting_ , her body pressed to his better than anything he remembered from his carefree days, anything he’d ever imagined.

“Oh, Bethany.”

He made himself breathe, pull back his mouth, lift his head to stare into her wide, wide eyes. “Are you sure, Bethany? Really, really sure? Because, once we start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” One shaky hand reached up to cup her face, thumb rubbing softly against the blush of red across her cheek. “You mean too much, I  _want_  too much...”

She flushed, if possible, even redder. “I want, I mean...” she swallowed, her eyes so dark he thought he would fall and drown in them. “I’ve never, with anyone, but I want, with you.”

_Ohhh_ , his whole body shuddered, all the blood fleeing his brain, his cock trying to twitch beneath his smalls. The thought of being the first, the only, to touch her body, to taste her depths, to explore every single inch, to be the one she chose to make her  _feel_...

“Then come with me,” he whispered harshly, though he managed to keep his grip gentle, his fingers soft as he held her hand, tugged her away from the wall, his gaze never leaving her lovely, beloved face.  _Now, where... clinic. Hadn’t gotten around to locking the back door yet._  “This way.”

She knew the way through the alleys as well as he did, her footsteps quiet and sure behind him. She fit his life so well, he’d be tempted to call her a Miracle, if he believed in such things. She was definitely better than he deserved.

And she was nervous, he realized once they’d made their way to his private back room, sitting next to each other on his small bed, her breathing light and fast, her eyes hooded, her gaze caught on her hands in her lap. He wished for somewhere a bit less,  _suggestive_ , but all he had was a bed and a bookshelf. Even the pump for water was in the clinic proper. Where they both worked, almost every day. At least here, this room could be  _theirs_ , could be private. Something just for them. Just for her.

He kissed her gently on the forehead, breathing in the flowery scent of her shampoo, the electric tang of her magic, the sweet musk of her skin and her sweat from wandering around Kirkwall in the middle of summer, trying to decide how to help her relax. He’d been so desperate to feel something, anything good, his first time with Karl, he’d rather bulldozed right past ‘nervous virgin’ to ‘cocky young know-it-all’.

He reached down and took her hands in his, squeezing gently, smiling softly as she finally looked up into his eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, lifting her hands, turning them over and kissing the middle of her palms, first one, then the other. Her lips parted slightly, and he leaned past her hands to kiss her, gently this time, savoring every shift, every touch, every flick of the tongue, every sigh he slowly eased out of her.

When her fingers were finally completely loose, her arms heavy, her shoulders relaxed, he slid slowly off her mouth, up her jaw, until he reached her ear. “You have to tell me,” he spoke slowly, quietly, “if ever I do something you don’t like.” He waited patiently, until she nodded. “Or,” he smiled, slightly, kissing gently behind her ear, down her neck, listening to her breath catch, a slight moan whispering past her lips. “If I do something you really,  _really_ , like, so I can do it again.”  _And again, and again, hopefully_.

“That,” she whispered, light and breathy, “I like that.”

“I like this too,” he promised, running his tongue along the slight dent where her neck met her shoulder, before kissing his way back up to her ear again. “I like everything about you.”

“I like, everything, about you,” he felt her swallow beneath his lips, and he kissed her again for good measure, right under the line of her jaw. “I just, don’t know what, to  _do_.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Bethany.”

“But I want to!”

“What do you want to do?” Anders tilted his head in front of her, smiling back into those lovely dark eyes.

“I want, I don’t, I don’t know, I just want!”

“Shh,” he kissed her cheek, one quick touch of his lips. “Don’t worry. Don’t think. Just do whatever you’d like. Anything at all.”

Her hand reached up slowly, her head tilting as she gently cupped his jaw. He closed his eyes at the sensation, her hand so very soft against his skin, her palm catching on his hair, pulling just a little. His breath shuddered out of his lungs as he tried not to lunge at her again.  _Patience. For her._  And then opened his eyes again as she made an odd little sigh.

“Yes?”

“Can you, um, keep your eyes open?” She was biting her bottom lip uncertainly, and she was easily the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Of course,” he felt his face relax into a smile, more of one then he’d felt in the entire past  _year_.

“Oh,” her mouth fell slightly opened as she sighed. “Oh my.”

“What is it?” He lifted his hand to rest against hers, her fingers warm under his hand.

“Your eyes. They’re so warm. Like... honey.” She was blushing again, as if embarrassed, but she kept talking.  _So brave, his Bethany._  “And when you smiled, I’ve never seen you look so, relaxed? So, beautiful. You should smile like that more often.”

“For you, I’ll try.” He started to lean forward to kiss her again, but her hand was suddenly in between them, fingers blocking his mouth, soft yet determined.

“Don’t just try.” Her eyes were narrowed slightly, her mouth firm above her pointed chin. “Promise.”

_Maker, she is everything that is still good in this world._  “Promise,” he whispered, the ache in his chest making his voice shake.

She smiled softly, dropping her hand and lifting her chin. “Good.” And then she leaned forward and kissed  _him_.

She pulled back, still smiling, her fingers reaching out to dig into his hair, tugging until she’d pulled it free, and it fell around his face. “That’s much better,” she whispered, running her hands gently through the strands.

“Mmm,” Anders moaned softly, the gentle tugs soothing and wonderful, pleasure tingling along his scalp, straining to keep his eyes open, just for her, just as she’d asked.  _Anything she asks_. “What do you want to do next?”

“May I,” she tugged gently on his collar, “see? I don’t know how to get those, feather, things off of you...”

“Of course,” he felt himself laugh, warm and content, and her entire face lit up at the sound, the sound of  _him_ , and he was definitely going to have to make that happen again. Daily. Hourly. “The buckles are right here.” He lifted her hands with his own, first unhooking the chain, then moving them to trace the edges of the straps, letting her set the pace, letting her ease off his pauldrons, his belt, slowly working the large rings of the buckles down his front, the pressure of her hands through the fabric feather-light yet burning, inescapable, intoxicating.

_I have too many clothes._  He was feeling almost light-headed, and was having a very hard time holding himself still, as what little thought he could manage involved running his hands around the edges of all  _her_  clothes in retaliation before burying his face in her perfect breasts.

Finally, he eased his arms out of his sleeves, and all that was left was his undershirt, thin unbleached linen loose against his skin. She slowly pulled it out from where it was tucked into his pants, sliding her hands under the bottom hem, and he sighed, eyes blinking slowly as her palms settled against his stomach, soft and warm, fingers flexing slightly as his muscles tensed, as he shivered slightly at her touch.

Her fingers turned down, hooking slightly behind the waist of his breeches, just starting to tug, and he gasped, low and throaty, before managing to drop his hands to hers and lift them up. “There are, other, things we can do before, that,” he was practically panting, “to make sure you enjoy yourself.”

“But,” her eyes flickered from the rather obvious bulge pushing against the fabric at his groin up to his face, “don’t you want--”

“Oh, there are lots of things I want,” he murmured, and he captured her mouth with his, swallowing her gasp as he cupped her breasts, as he started running his thumbs along the line of fabric at the top of her bodice, back and forth across her skin. “I want to touch you, to taste you, to see every inch of you laid bare before me. Do you want that, too?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “oh yes.”

Anders pushed her back to lie down on his pillow, yanking his shirt off one-handed and throwing it off to the side, feeling the hint of his old smirk as she stared wide-eyed at his chest, watching his muscles, the slightest tip of her tongue visible between her lips.

The thought of her eyes on him, enjoying him, was likely to make him spill in his trousers like a callow youth, so he forced himself to bend over, let her see the curve of his back as he actually untied his boots properly, resisting the urge to just break all the laces and kick.

It was a very close call. He had to stop for a minute and close his eyes, remember to breathe,  _think about something else_. Something cold. Something awful. Swamp muck. Yes.  _If I do not make everything perfect for her I deserve to drown my head in swamp muck. Blackmarsh muck. Very nasty._

It was surprisingly ineffective. Even Blackmarsh couldn’t quench the appeal of  _Bethany_. Bethany of the soft hands and voice, the hidden steel of her determination to help everyone, her sister, her friends, perfect strangers in Darktown.

_Me._

She was always helping him, capable of such compassion and kindness, the memory of her magic when she worked at the clinic like rose petals against his skin.

Bethany, whose dark hair was spread across the pale raw muslin of his pillow, whose eyes were wide as he turned to look at her again, whose teeth were caught gently on her bottom lip, cheeks flushed with arousal. Because of  _him_.

He swallowed a groan, both delight and pain. His cock was so tight against the fabric at his groin he was surprised there was enough blood going to his brain to keep him breathing. Breathing was overrated. Kissing though, kissing he could do. Kissing he  _needed_  to do.

Anders shifted his knees back up on the bed and crawled above her body up to her face, to stare into the dark pools of her eyes, to gently suck on her bottom lip, soothing away any remaining sting from her bite. To wait until she closed her eyes in pleasure before he kissed her properly, closing his own eyes, drowning in her taste, her lips, her tongue. His hands were braced on either side of her head, gently rubbing one soft strand of hair between his finger and thumb.

_Soft fingers, feather light, sliding gently up his sides._

Anders gasped, losing the kiss and resting his forehead against hers with a slight moan. Her hands stopped, pulled back.

“Did I?”

“Oh, please, don’t stop,” he almost begged, “you feel wonderful.”

“So do you,” she whispered, and this time she put her whole hands against him, palms flat as she slid up his sides, moving slowly but firmly up, and down, reaching as far as she could to run her fingers up his back, causing him to arch slightly against the delicious pressure, her nails catching just slightly against his skin as she dug her fingers into him.

“Ohh,” she sighed, and did it again, slightly harder, and his entire body jerked above her, startling another gasp out of her throat.

“Hnng,” he managed to choke out, and he really was going to say something nicer than that, really he was, but then she was biting the tip of her tongue in concentration again, her hands moving around his body, curving across his chest, thumbs digging in a bit harder as she traced the lines of muscles, and then she pushed against him, sliding down, and licked his nipple.

He almost fell on top of her, barely catching himself on his elbows.

“Mercy, Bethany,” he moaned as she did it again. And again. He grabbed her shoulders in desperation and rolled, pulling her over as she squeaked in surprise. It was slightly awkward for a moment, arms and legs in all the wrong places, but he managed to get himself flat against the bed, Bethany straddling his stomach. “There,” he rasped, “now I won’t accidentally flatten you when you drive me crazy.”

“Did you want me to stop?” Bethany settled back a little, hands hovering uncertainly right above him, the curve of her delightful arse just touching the top of his breeches,  _just_  a little too high to rub against anything in particular, and his mind blanked for a second at the possibilities.

_Sliding his cock between the curve of her cheeks, skin taut and firm as he teased, back and forth, delicious friction, her thighs around his hips, her head thrown back in wanton delight, his hands caressing her legs, her hips, sliding through her slick to find her nub, her pearl, making her come on top of him, riding him as she shivered her pleasure, until he got to slide inside her, feel her tighten around him as he brought her over again..._

“Um, what?” He blinked at her. “No! Take your time. I want you to be happy, dearest.” He grinned at her, delighted when she blushed and ducked her head and smiled all at the same time. “Just, don’t expect me to be sensible while you’re doing it.” He tucked his hands behind his head, stretching his neck just a little to press back against them. “There. No interference. Promise.”

“Mmm.” She reached out one hand, running one finger softly from his elbow, down his arm, across his shoulder, tracing the line of muscle until she stopping partway down his chest. “That did lovely things to your, you look,” she stuttered slightly, and he grinned again, his heart practically bursting in his chest.  _Such perfection. For me. Wanting me._

She was also a perfect, innocent, tease, her head cocked slightly in concentration, her eyes fixed on his skin, fingers light as she traced lines down his throat, his arms, across his chest, down his sides, scratching slightly with her nails as she ran her hands through his chest hair, until his whole body was shivering, his head shoved as hard as he could against his hands to hold himself in place, to let her explore as she wanted, nostrils flaring as he focused most of his attention on breathing.  _In, out, don’t shudder, don’t pounce, mercy she’s gorgeous. Am I sure anticipation isn’t fatal? Doesn’t matter. Worth it if it is. I shall die happy._

Her hands heavy against his chest, fingers spread, she leaned down, lips soft and slow as she tasted his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, apparently not dissuaded by the rasp of his stubble, her own lips and chin and cheeks blushing darker from the friction, her eyes now closed as she felt her way across his skin. He managed to swallow his groan, barely, until she finally made her way to his lips, and all restraint broke, his head lifting to push against her mouth, to free his hands so he could bury them in her hair, silken strands tangling as he held her head close, as he lapped up the taste of her with lips and tongue, growling softly in the back of his throat, unable to stop his hips from bucking up against her.

He could feel her moan deep in her throat when he rolled them both over, covering her with his body, still kissing, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop kissing her. He kept his hands firm and steady as he ran them across her shoulders, her arms, her sides, calming and soothing and arousing all at the same time, until she was hot and flushed, eyes closed as she rocked gently under his touch, her breathing heavy but slow.

He finally raised his head, though she followed his mouth for a moment, lifting herself up off the pillow to extend the soft, sweet moment as their lips slowly separated, breathing for each other, sighing together, peace and contentment filling him for just a moment before his body began clamoring again for  _more_.

A slight fumble of his fingers when he directed his attention to her bracers made her laugh softly, lightly,  _such a beautiful sound_ , but he eventually pulled them off her arms, adding them to the tangle of boots and clothes and belts and pouches booby-trapping his small stretch of floor,  _guess we’ll have to stay in bed forever, no path out_ , kissing the curve of her elbow and wrist, licking gently up the sensitive skin of her forearms, tracing the lines of her veins, the soft curve of her muscles now loose as she quivered slightly beneath his tongue.

Her bodice unhooked and slid off easily, the heavier weight of the chain helping it slither off the blanket, landing with a soft clink on the floor. Her blouse was thin, barely opaque, easy to slide up  _just enough_ , his head dipping down to taste right above her waist, inhaling the sweet scent of skin and sweat and musky arousal before licking gently up to her navel, fingers stroking against her stomach, savoring every twitch of muscle, every shiver across her skin, until she whined, softly, pushing up against him, asking for more with the curve of her back, the clenching of her fingers against his shoulders, the restless shifting of her legs beneath him.

His hands fit easily underneath her lifted spine, letting him loosen the ties down her back, slide her blouse up and up until  _Oh Maker, she has beautiful breasts_. Round and heavy, resting against his palms once her breastband was thrown as far away as possible, perfect brown nipples, taut and delicious under his tongue, firm and silken soft between his fingers.

“Uhhh,” her groan grew loader, her back arching harder as she shoved herself up against his mouth, his hands, “Maker, Anders, that feels, oh!” She cried out wordlessly as he sucked, humming, thumb circling her other nipple as his tongue busily teased the one in his mouth. And then he switched, and she gasped, rocking beneath him, her breasts, her hips, rubbi ng against him, hot and innocent but willing, oh so willing, wanting him.

_Maker, yes, oh Bethany, my Bethany_. He lifted his head just long enough to pull her blouse completely off, mouth falling on hers like he was drowning, dying, every moment not kissing her, claiming her, hands still holding those perfect breasts, kneading, stroking,  _oh mine, please, mine for ever, I am yours, my Bethany, all for you_.

Muscles flexed beneath him, the slightest of warnings before her hips bucked up against him, harder, and his hands slid down her sides to her waist, pushing her down against the bed as he growled into her mouth.  _No more waiting, I can’t wait._  Her whole body rose against him as she moaned, again, head back against the pillow, eyes closed, flushed and panting. “Please, Anders, oh please...”

“My Bethany,” he whispered, fingers gently sliding beneath the edges of her leggings, slowly easing into view the smooth unbroken curve of her hips, skin soft and warm against his hands as he felt her thighs tense, lifting her backside up enough he could free the luscious swell of her arse, and...

He paused, breath heavy as he rested his forehead against her stomach, trying desperately to swallow past the surge of lust choking him.  _Cannot just fuck her against the mattress, not the first time, I am better than that, yes, yes I am. Really._

_Maker give me strength._

“No smallclothes?” Anders choked out unevenly, rather afraid to move, as he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do next.

“I almost never,” Bethany’s voice was rough and uneven as well, light and breathy above him, “wear smalls. Not sure I even own any.”

“None? Never?” He lifted his head, staring up at her flushed face, frozen at the thought of all those times, standing next to her, working together, the curve of her body as she got supplies for him, off shelves, bent over tables,  _bending her over a table, oh, Maker_ , and nothing there, not the slightest scrap of cloth, just her body, rubbing directly against her leggings, her... “Robes?”

“No,” there was the slightest heat growing in her voice, deep in her eyes, her whisper dropping slightly in pitch, and tone, as if she’d discovered how much she liked his reaction to her, his fingers tightening around her legs, his body slowly leaning up against hers, his tongue licking his lips, his gaze fixed on her face. “Just a shift.”

He felt the growl building low in his gut, stomach muscles tight as his hips tried to thrust at her, as he shoved himself up along her body to kiss her again, hard and hot and fast,  _how easy to take her, to pleasure her, to find a cot, a shelf, a wall, to lift one lovely leg, nothing to stop me, slow me down, my hands along her skin, her heat, thrusting inside her_.

“You should wear robes more often, then,” he managed, dark and low, slithering ba ck down her body, rubbing against her chest, her stomach, her legs, pulling her leggings down past her knees, off her feet, off the bed. “So as soon as we were alone, there’d be nothing to stop me from reaching past those skirts.” He ran one thumb, soft, a light teasing touch against her mound, her slit, not quite rubbing, not yet, back and forth, as she gasped in surprise.

“Or, perhaps, instead of waiting, I could invite you back to the storage room, push you against the door, drop to my knees so I can duck my head under the fabric.” And he licked, slowly, gently, drowning in her taste, her smell, her folds already wet, slick, her juices thick across his tongue as she made a loud broken moan, high pitched with shock and longing, her body reacting to the pleasure even before she knew what it was.

“Would you be quiet? Secretive?” he licked again, and again, carefully, thoroughly, listening to her breathe, feeling her body lift, every shift, every sigh, music and delight. “Or would you cry out as I pleasured you, no longer caring if anyone could hear, if anyone knew,” his started to push harder, each lick firmer as he listened to her breaths deepen, harder, faster, as he felt her pushing up against his mouth. “Knew that I wanted you, needed you, needed to taste, to give, to take.”

Too busy to talk anymore, his mouth was dedicated to her, exploring, tasting, finding what made her moan, what made her body jerk and shudder beneath him, her muscles tighten under his hands as he slid them under her thighs, her arse, holding her in place so he could feast upon her.

Her cries changed to words, so lovely, her voice surrounding him, his name on her lips. “Oh, Anders, oh, oh... wait! Please.” It took a moment to penetrate past his concentration, his  _need_ , but he forced himself to stop, to lift his head, to look at her, to wait, pretending he hadn’t heard the very unmanly whine he’d been unable to completely swallow back down the back of his throat.

“Oh, Maker, that’s, you’re, I can’t, I don’t,” her eyes were wide, her eyebrows frowning, as she tried desperately to... something. “It’s too,” she started again, stuttering to a stop, distressed and embarrassed, trying to drop her eyes, hide herself. From him.

“Oh, love,” her distress was like a knife to his heart, sharp and cold, and he crawled back up to her face, cupping her cheeks as he hovered right above her. “Please, Bethany, I would never hurt you, I promise. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, I do, I,” she sighed, lashes flickering and flashing as she blinked, almost squirmed, still having trouble meeting his gaze. “It’s just, too much. I don’t know what,” she sighed again, frustrated this time.

“There is nothing wrong, here, sweetheart.” Anders insisted, ignoring the throb of disagreement from his cock, rather desperate for some personal attention, something, anything more than rough fabric and tight breeches. “And there is nothing you need do, or feel, or be. Just you. My Bethany. Let go, dearest, and let me enjoy you?”

She nodded, slightly, leaning up to kiss him, lips warm and soft and delicious, her tongue tentative as she tasted herself in his mouth.

But her body was still tight, fingers clenched and shoulders taut, so when she tried to pull her head back down he followed, still kissing, nothing touching but their lips.  He slowly moved his hands onto her cheeks, gently stroking back through her hair on her temples, across the pillow, finally settling flat on the mattress on either side of her shoulders, supporting his weight as the kiss went on, and on.

Eventually, he had to lift his head, had to breathe, had to smile at her lovely face. “We don’t have to do this, Bethany,” he whispered. “There’s no rush. We can get you dressed, and I shall walk you home, and hope Hawke doesn’t stab me too much when I tell her I’m attempting to court her little sister.”  _And then I shall jump in some quiet corner of the Harbor to cool off my head. Both heads. And cast a good healing spell afterwards to make sure I don’t catch anything nasty._

“Court?” Bethany’s eyes widened, her lips parted just the slightest bit.

_Irresistible_. One soft, quick touch of his lips to hers, his voice husky and low as it escaped his mouth. “Did you think I’d be satisfied with kisses in dark corners? Not that I have anything against kissing in dark corners, it’s great fun.” And he kissed her again, just to prove it, smiling when she giggled. “But you are worth so much more than that.”

He felt her sigh, her body softening beneath him as she reached up to gently cup his face. “So are you.” A slight smile started to curve her lips, her eyes shining. “And I’m quite sure she won’t stab you. Much.”

“You little minx!” Anders laughed, sliding to his side to lay down beside her, head propped on his hand. “You’re enjoying my terror of sharp pointy objects wielded by your oh so formidable sister, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.” Bethany’s shy smile widened further, and she turned her head on the pillow to look at him directly. “I promise I’ll take care of you if she gets too over-protective.”

“Hmm,” Anders hummed deep in his throat. “That would quite probably make it worth it.” He leaned over just a bit to kiss her again, pulling back shakily as he felt the heat of what he’d originally intended to be a light peck sear him all the way to his toes. “Definitely worth it,” he whispered roughly, just before Bethany rolled to her side, grabbing his head and kissing him, hard, for just a minute before she pulled back, panting, breath hot against his face.

“That would be a ‘no’ for going home, then?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured into his mouth right before their lips met again. “I want this,” she whispered as he started nuzzling down her jaw line, hands smoothing down her sides, firm against her ribs, the dip of her stomach, the curve of her hips, down and up and down again, “I want you, I just... it’s been a long time since I tried to do something and didn’t have a clue how.”

Anders chuckled softly against her neck, fingers tightening slightly as she shivered against him. “You’re just as formidable as your sister, you know, only quieter about it. And I do know what I’m doing, promise.” He lifted his head to smile at her again, admiring the way her eyes widened, the way her mouth softened, as she smiled back. “I may be a bit out of practice, though. You’ll need to be patient with me.”

A whisper of a laugh escaped past her lips. “You’re being plenty patient enough for both of us.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He pushed gently against her hip, moving her until she was laying flat on her back beside him, warm and pliant and trusting. “That doesn’t seem to be helping, does it? Let’s try something a little different, shall we?”

Her eyebrows just started to crease into a slightly confused frown,  _Maker, even when she thinks I’m crazy she’s beautiful_ , but she nodded, slightly, legs spreading apart with a sigh as his hand slid in between them.

Before she could manage more than shifting slightly up against his palm, he ground the heel of his hand against her, one finger sliding inside without any warning, calling up his favorite electricity spell and trickling  _just enough_  down his arm.

“Anders!” Soft and shocked, her voice barely carried his name past her lips, but the rasp in her cry made his heart ache as her body arched, her walls clamping so tightly around his finger he groaned.  _And oh, her face, her beautiful face, that look, I shall never get tired of that look..._

He gentled his touch, carefully soothing in time with her shudders as she started breathing again.

“Maker, Anders, you..” Bethany’s gasps didn’t make much sense as she opened her eyes and blinked at him in surprise. Luckily she looked soft and pretty and happy-surprised.  _Oh Good. Good surprise. I’d give myself a pat on the back if I was bendy enough._

“I adore how brilliant you are,” Anders smiled proudly at her, “but sometimes it’s good to stop thinking.”

“No thinking, huh?” Bethany smiled, slow and sweet and possibly slightly evil, causing Anders to start to raise his own eyebrows in surprise. The pressure of a small soft hand cupping his groin made surprise too much effort, however, and he closed his eyes with a groan. “That means I shouldn’t be doing this, then?” Her soft voice whispered clearly past the darkness of his eyelids, right as the familiar sideways surge of Bethany calling mana gave him a breath of warning before the tingle of his favorite electricity spell being wielded by someone else shot through him, so good it hurt, better than anything, tingling and tightening and hardening and his whole body lost, forgotten, as he rode the surge up and out, and...

_Maker, yes, Bethany._

“You ruined my pants,” he managed a lifetime later, panting and grinning right before he kissed her, swallowing her rich husky chuckle, a delectable sound unlike anything he’d ever heard from her before, but he was quite determined he’d hear it again. Daily. At least.

“I’m pretty sure  _you_  ruined your pants,” she smirked slightly once her mouth was free again, yet another new and wonderful Bethany experience. He was going to have to start a journal, just to keep track of them all. “You should take them off. Must be uncomfortable,” she paused her voice slowing as she leaned in closer to his ear, “all wet and sticky.”

“Hnngh,” he coughed, slightly, clearing his throat and pretending yet again he wasn’t making desperate unmanly sounds every time she blinked at him.  _Maker, she’s amazing, and she is going to kill me, and thank you. Thank you. Thank you._  “Splendid idea, that.” He turned and leaned up and started squirming out of his breeches and his smalls.

“What, being all wet and sticky?”

He forced himself to swallow yet another quivery moan before pummeling his poor abused mental abilities into semi-coherent order. “I do have a lovely jar of honey right over there,” he nodded in the general direction of the clinic storeroom with his chin, right before he tossed the last of his clothes over by the door.  _Definitely have to pay the extra money for a proper laundress this time, rather than just scrubbing at them myself. More important things to spend my time on now._  He rolled back over, tangled himself up with Bethany on the bed, his bed,  _our bed_ , arms and legs and skin against skin, kissing her again,  _I will never ever get tired of getting to do that_ , before dragging his own long-neglected smirk out of old youthful memories and feeling it spread across his face. “If you’d like to be wet and sticky, too, that is.”

He could see her swallow, breath catching in her chest, those perfect beautiful delightful breasts quivering oh so slightly as she obviously got caught up in the idea of honey and wet and sticky and she slowly licked her luscious, swollen lips.

_Still, always, irresistible,_  he kissed her, warm and soft, taking his time, savoring those rich, full, beautiful lips, the sweet warmth of her mouth, the tender pressure of her tongue, the gentle scrape of teeth as she bit at his bottom lip.

“Hmmm,” he sighed contentedly as their lips slowly separated, the urge to take his time no longer undercut by desperation and discomfort. “I have wondered for so long what you would taste like. Even better than I imagined.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“Well,” she tilted her head slightly, lips slightly pursed as she smiled at him. “I had no idea, really, despite desperately trying to figure out how to throw myself at you, that you were at all interested. In me. Like this.” She shrugged shyly, eyelashes shadowing and fluttering against her cheeks as she glanced down at the expanse of skin and rumpled sheets, before lifting back up to his face. “And now you admit to  _imagining things_.”

“Oh, dearest, you made my heart beat again the first time I saw you.” Anders stroked her hair back from her temple gently, smiling as she flushed oh so slightly beneath his fingers. “And then, you braved Darktown and my wretched manners to offer condolences. After Karl.” His smile fled on a soft sigh. “So brave and beautiful, my Bethany.”

“I’m so sorry, Anders,” she whispered gently.

“He was the first person I ever loved, did I tell you that?”

“You did, and I’m glad you had each other for as long as you did.” Her kiss was soft and gentle against his cheek. “But you’re avoiding my question.”

“I am not! I’m easily distracted.” One hand slid down to her breast, a gentle squeeze to illustrate his point. “You distract me.”

She stretched and purred a bit beneath his touch, but much too soon she swatted gently at his hand. “I also want to know. Why did you kiss me when I came to see you today?”

“I was trying to scare you off.”

“Yes, devastatingly wonderful kisses from handsome men are just terrifying.”

“Devastatingly handsome?”

“Just regular handsome.” She winked as his grin faded into a mock pout. “Devastating kisses. And a heart-stopping smile. And beautiful brown eyes, hot and sweet and honey and amber.” Her eyes were staring deep into his own, and he was drowning, desperately, wonderfully, lost in the blue so dark it was almost black, soft and lovely. The slightest hint of crease deepened between them, her gaze still locked on him. “Why today, though? Why not yesterday? Why not the day before, or last week, or last moon? What changed?”

_Your incomparable skill with a banana?_  “I couldn’t pretend you were resistible anymore?”

“And why were trying to resist me?”

“Um..”  _Because I’m almost twice your age and I live in Darktown and I’m hiding from everyone and everything because I’m an abomination and a runaway Grey Warden and I can never give you a nice home and kids and land and peace and quiet and you deserve everything and I have.._

“You’re not suddenly going to convince yourself you’re not good enough and attempt to resist me again, are you?” The sharp edge to Bethany’s voice cut through his flailing thoughts. The crease between her eyebrows had deepened as he paused, the darkness in her eyes hot and determined. “Because if you do, you should be more afraid of me and my staff than you ever considered being afraid of my sister and her knives. Do we understand each other?”

“Mmmm,” he managed a growl in the affirmative, head nodding before he grabbed her and lunged, rolling her over onto her back and pinning her hands beside her shoulders, devouring her lips with his mouth, tracing her jaw with his tongue, teasing her neck with the gentle scrape of his teeth, sliding down her chest to suck a nipple into his mouth, hard and fast and deep.

Her breath stuttered briefly in shock, and then she was groaning, thrusting herself against his mouth as his tongue alternately teased and soothed, around and around, over and over.

He pulled himself away and started over again, mouth, jaw, neck, the other breast, up and down, lavishing attention on every curve of skin, tracing the lines of her collarbone, the muscles in her shoulders, everything he could get his mouth on, until she was panting, moaning, wordless and breathless and curving under his touch, her fingers grasping, desperate and hard around his hands.

The delicious moaning noises she made were intoxicating, but he made himself stop, slide back up to whisper in her ear.

“To answer your question, about what broke through my ill-conceived notion of resisting you... the banana.”

She blinked at him, eyes wide and stunned, cheeks flushed, lips just slightly parted as she breathed.  _Another entry for the journal. This view. She is gorgeous._  Her thoughts took a moment to settle back into her brain, but he could see it in her eyes as she recognized what he said, as the edge of her mouth curled up just the slightest bit. Anticipation. Mischief.  _Oh, Maker, that expression needs two entries all on its own._

He felt the zap against his palms as she wiggled her fingers and he laughed, loosening his grip just as she pushed, rolling them over yet again. “All you had to do was ask, dearest.”

She started sliding down his body, looking up at him through loose strands of hair and dark thick eyelashes, that mischievous little smile sending another zing through him, straight through his chest, stopping his breath. “This was more fun, though.”

“Oh, well, I’m all for you having fun,”  _especially as it leads to me having fun as well, it seems._  He lifted himself up on his elbows, watching the curve of her back as she wormed her way down and settled between his legs, her knees pressed against his skin, her delectable arse lifted a bit as she wiggled and twisted to keep her legs on the bed, and he felt warm breath against his inner thigh as she leaned down towards him.

Hot and liquid, his entire spine melted, his head falling back because there was no longer anything solid in his neck to hold it up, as she  _licked_. She started under his balls, curving her tongue and smoothing up and around, slow and gentle. Little laps, cautious. He was pretty sure the liquid boneless thing was about to spread to his elbows and he was going to collapse completely, but he scrambled together an encouraging sort of “hrrghbnngh” groan to come out of his throat first.

Apparently she correctly interpreted that as a  _good_  noise, and her tongue became a little more firm, moving up and giving him one long, slow, lick from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip.

Which, he’d been right, absolutely melted his arms too and he fell down to the mattress with a thud and another “nghrrph”. She laughed, again, that rich and husky new-Bethany-chuckle, proud and pleased with herself and him and making him speechless and her breath ghosted across his skin and he groaned again, trying to remember how his bones went together so he could lift his head again and  _watch_ , as Bethany was certainly always worth watching.

His neck was still all warm and gooey though. He wasn’t having much luck.

The fact that she kept licking, up and down and twisting her tongue around balls and shaft and making such happy little humming noises as he could feel himself growing harder and hotter under her mouth was not helping, either. Well, it was helping him feel  _spectacular_ , better than he could ever remember, and apparently good enough even Justice was quiet, blue and happy tinging his thoughts but not interfering because this was perfect. She was perfect. Everything that was good about people, about mages, and she was  _here_. With him. Licking. His. Balls.

And then her lips wrapped all the way around him, her mouth wet and hot and she sucked, and really, there was no point in trying to lift his head anymore because he was pretty sure he’d just gone blind.

Good blind. Presumably not permanent blind. He could feel his entire body  _there_  between her lips and really permanent blind might be just fine if it felt like this all the time. She slid a bit futher down, then more, then...

Apparently too much more, as she slid back with a cough, trying not to choke.

"Ah, darling," Anders laughed, wiggling his still soft and gooey spine just enough he could grab her head, pull her up to his face, roll them both on their sides, face to face. "That might take a bit more practice."

"I think I'd like that," she whispered, her blush soft and adorable.

"Maker, you're perfect," he licked at her lips until her mouth opened for him, until he could slide his tongue inside, taste himself in her mouth, on her tongue, between her lips.

His hand moved slowly down her side as their mouths sighed together, fingers sliding past her shoulder, firm enough not to tickle her ribs, his thumb caressing the curve of her hips, fingers tracing the crease at the start of her thighs.

She pulled back with a gasp as he moved his hand between her legs again, and he watched her face, her eyes, the curve of her mouth, as he slowly pushed a finger inside her again.

She was so tight. Hot and wet and impossibly tight. There'd been no maidenhead to break, which wasn't that uncommon, barbaric noble practices of checking the sheets be damned, which was fine with him, as blood tended to be a bit unnerving even for the most determined virgin, and Bethany was definitely determined, but  _oooh_ , her eyelids fluttered and her breath sighed out and her body clenched around him and he muffled his groan into her shoulder, holding her tight against him.

He twisted his hand, swallowing a moan as he listened to her breath catch. He breathed in deep, the scent of her skin, her sweat, their sex, their arousal, and twisted again, and she cried out this time, light and soft and wordless. Again, and again, until she started to push with her hips into his hand, and he pulled his finger out.

She gasped, cold and short, but before she'd even finished taking in her breath he pushed two fingers back in. Her groan was deeper this time, he could hear it rubbing in her chest, her throat, he could feel her body arc against him. He twisted again, spreading and loosening with his fingers to the sound of her breathing, fast and shallow, to the taste of her skin, taut beneath his tongue, a hint of salt against his lips as he kissed his way across her shoulder, her neck, her jaw.

"Anders, oh Maker, Anders, please."

"Please what?" He leaned up and sucked gently at her ear lobe, and a beautiful broken soft sigh escaped her lips instead of words.

"I'm not fragile," she whispered roughly, her head turning so she could stare at him, her body rising up into his hand. "Please."

He kissed her, hard, unable to speak, pushing his fingers harder, deeper between the hot tight walls of her body until she ripped her mouth away from his with another broken moan. "Damn it, Anders!"

He laughed, fierce and proud and delighted, and pulled his hand out. His fingers were wet and hot from her her juices, and he smiled as her eyes widened at the view of them when he lifted his hand between them. She whimpered softly as he stuck them in his mouth, slowly sucking and licking them clean, and then he kissed her again, and again, the taste of her mouth combining on his tongue with the lingering taste of her slick.

"You are delicious," he whispered, turning them, settling her until she was straddled across his legs and he was flat on his back again. "Do whatever you'd like, oh not-fragile Bethany."

Her nose wrinkled as she snorted, softly, but then her attention shifted from his face down his body, and she wrapped one hand gently around the hard length of his cock, jutting out right in front of her, and he moaned, eyes closing as he savored the feel of each individual finger, strong and soft against him.

Her thumb rubbed softly around the crown, and he could feel his cock pulsing against her palm as he swallowed yet another incoherent reaction.  _Damn it, Bethany._

He opened his eyes in time to see her smile, slowly, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Her smile deepened to something that could only be called smug, and she lifted herself up on her knees. She leaned forward, carefully, her hand still wrapped around his length as she positioned her body above him.

She moved down, just a little, heat and tight walls wet against just the tip of his crown and he moaned, low and ragged, hands fisting in the sheets as he held himself flat against the mattress.  _Musn't thrust, musn't take, musn't hurt._  A whisper of blue echoed his desperate internal monologue, as if even Justice agreed that Bethany should be cherished, for all he'd distanced himself from the physicality of this encounter.

She was so tense it was hard to move, hard not to move. Maker, he was so hard he couldn't think. Anders could feel the quiver in his stomach, his legs, need drying out his mouth as he swallowed, over and over again, unable to speak, forcing himself to wait.

She whined, a soft, high, desperate noise, as she pushed down just a little further, and the blue flared briefly higher, as if worried they were hurting her, before fading away again when she sighed his name, "Anders, oh Maker."

"Bethany," he whispered longingly, watching the muscles in her stomach relax, her body ease down again. "So beautiful, Bethany," and she shuddered at his words, everything tight then loosening again, and she gasped as she moved her hand out of the way and slid all the way down.

His vision went dark as he threw his head back into the pillow, groaning, "fuck, Bethany, so good," and he could feel the fabric tear under his fingernails as it took willpower he hadn't known he had left to  _keep still_  as she panted above him, a rough keening edge to her breaths as she slowly adjusted.

Finally, about three Ages later judging by the count in his head, she leaned back, the shifting of her body gripping around his cock. Her breath caught as she rubbed something  _just right_ , her eyes widening in shock, a soundless "oh" shaping her mouth.

"How do I do that again?" Her voice was light, breathless, the slightest dark thread of desire hiding under the words. He didn't think he could speak, so he carefully placed his hands on her hips, bracing her snug against his body, and slowly tilted his hips, just a little, pushing up and forward.

_Fuck, yes, glorious._

She gasped a breath in again as he moved, breasts lifting as her chest filled with air. "That..." her voice trailed off. He rocked a bit harder the second time and her hands flailed, trying to find something to hold onto, finally settling on top of his fingers, her grip bruisingly tight, a whimper escaping her throat. "Do that again."

So he did.

Her eyes closed, and her body shuddered above him. "Oh, Maker. Anders, we are doing this every day for the rest of our lives, right?"

"Twice on Sunday," he agreed shakily, fingers clenching hard against her skin, so tight he could feel the edges of her hipbones beneath them.  _The rest of my life. For you._

And then he rotated his hips, and her voice broke, a wordless cry. She leaned back further, her hands going back to brace herself on his thighs. He couldn't really thrust at all, at that angle, but, oh, the view, the line of her neck as her head fell back, her breasts pointing up into the air, the nipples peaked so hard as to cast shadows down across the warm, rounded flesh.

He growled softly. She shivered at the sound, and seemed about to try and move forward again, but he wouldn't let her, one hand suddenly pushing against the skin right above her mound, the muscles low in her stomach tightening under the pressure. They groaned in unison as that made her inner muscles tighten around him, as well, but he wasn't done, sliding his other hand off her hip, caressing across her thigh until he could gently slide his thumb down, circling around and around her pearl.

He listened as her breathing grew faster, feeling her skin jump under his fingers as her muscles twitched, feeling her body clench around his cock,  _fantastic_ , over and over and over again,  _better than fantastic_ , faster and tighter,  _indescribable_. He could feel her hands trembling on his thighs, the muscles in her arms weakening as her body clenched around him, and he moved his hands back to her hips, pulling slightly until she leaned forward.

He moved his arms up her sides, catching her, easing her down until she was resting on top of him, her lips softly kissing the skin of his shoulder as soon as she could reach it. He wrapped his arms around her, delighted at the smooth hot silk of her back, her breasts radiating heat from where they were pinned against his chest.

His hands tangled in her hair, lifting her head so he could kiss her mouth, nibble along her jawline, lick down her neck. And then he went back to kissing her, lips firm, tongue dancing inside her mouth.

He pulled back and she moaned, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and wet, and it was too much. His hips thrust up as hard they could, lifting them both up, shoving his desperate, hard cock as far inside her as he could get it, and she keened, high pitched, as they fell back onto the mattress with a thud. Her watched her face, couldn't get enough of her face as her body clenched, eyes glazed and breath frozen as she lost herself in the sensation, then everything shuddered as her body relaxed, coming down from the rush.

Her head settled on his shoulder, her breath hot against his neck as pushed up into her, over and over, soft groans of pleasure sliding out of her as she exhaled, gasping in time with his thrusts, and he could hear himself babbling, a soft whispered chorus of "oh, Maker, yes, Bethany, my Bethany, my love, yes," losing himself in the rhythm of his hips, the heat of her skin, the feel of her body wrapped around him, until he lost even that, the rocking of his body erratic as pleasure burned and he surged up one last time, the heat of his seed pouring out of him, filling her, his wordless growl filling the air around them.


	3. Chapter 3

"We really should get out of bed," Bethany murmured, her thumb kept softly stroking back and forth on his chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her knee resting on his thigh.

"Mmm," Anders hummed in agreement, his fingers trailing lightly down her arm. "Your family's probably worried about you."

"Might even be out looking, already." She lifted her head just enough to kiss his neck, then settled back down again.

Anders sighed softly, the arm she was resting on tightening around Bethany's shoulders. "Varric would probably shoot first and ask questions later, if he walked in right about now. And Hawke wouldn't even worry about the questions. She'd just stab me an extra time or twelve to make sure."

Neither of them moved.

"Or," Bethany, stopped suddenly, and Anders tilted his head back just enough to see her face. She was blushing, a light pink pretty flush to her cheeks.

"Or?" He smiled. Again. He didn't think he'd smiled this much in  _years_.

"Or we could practice some more. You know. So I don't choke?"

"That's a lovely idea," Anders purred softly, feeling a very faint twitch of interest down near his groin. He shifted sideways until he could slide a finger under her chin, lift her mouth up to kiss her, tongue slowly sweeping along the inside of her lips. "You know," he whispered when he'd finished, "if you turn around rather than sliding down the bed, I can practice on you too. At the same time."

"Oh," her breath sighed out of her slowly, her eyes sparkling as she smiled up at him. "I think we need a  _lot_  of practice."


End file.
